


drew & danvers, at your service

by andibeth82



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Everyone's got snark and feelings, Team Bonding, Team as Family, but mostly a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27804175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/pseuds/andibeth82
Summary: In the aftermath of Tony Stark's creation of Ultron (and subsequent near-destruction of the city), Jessica Drew and Carol Danvers start a crime-fighting service. Kate Bishop shoots some aliens. Jessica Jones finds an unlikely friend. Matt Murdock gives relationship advice.Meanwhile, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton are definitely (absolutely,definitely) not dating.
Relationships: Carol Danvers & Jessica Drew, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Matt Murdock, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31
Collections: Marvel Big Bang 2020





	drew & danvers, at your service

**Author's Note:**

> This initially started out as a Carol and Jess crime fighting AU. And then Clint appeared. And then Natasha appeared. And then I realized I wanted to explore of a bunch of different relationships with characters who I had never really written together at the time and things got a little out of hand. But the real story is this fic has been languishing on my google drive since before Age of Ultron. I started it sometime in 2015 before the movie came out and then lost steam and never finished it. Thanks to Marvel Bang, I finally did!
> 
> Theoretically, this functions as an AU for the MCU timeline in that Ultron’s destruction happened and the world basically ended, but not in a big apocalyptic way. It's basically a fusion of 616/MCU but ignores basically everything after Winter Soldier. Also, I’m pretty sure I jumped around in all aspects of comic history with certain characters? But hey, there are feelings! Lots of them!
> 
> Huge thanks to my wonderful Marvel Bang artist, TowerOAwesome for creating the amazing title card and mood board for this fic! Please shower her with accolades because she deserves it!

**I. JESSICA DREW**

If anyone asks (and they do), the whole thing was Carol’s idea.

Of course it was Carol’s idea. Because Carol would be the only person to _have_ this idea. Carol, aka Captain Marvel, aka Avenger and do-gooder and savior of all evil, the girl who could fly so high she _literally_ touched the sky and who, at the end of the world, had an itch to serve the people.

(Also see: Jessica Drew’s best friend.)

The thing is, Jess considers herself right there alongside Carol — fighting for the good of the people and all of that, web slinging and bantering and doing a pretty good job of keeping the city in check.

(Well, what was left of the city. Really, the robots — or rather, Tony Stark, if you wanted to be technical — had done a spectacular job. If there were gold medals to be given for “Destroying The World Singlehandedly,” the billionaire Avenger would be swimming in them.)

Because it was Carol’s idea, it was also Carol’s office. Jess is finding it really hard to think of the crown of the Statue of Liberty as an office but it’s not bad, all things considered. It’s clean, it’s big, and it’s quiet, except for those pesky Circle Line boats that liked to mosey around the island every few hours. As an added perk, it’s got a great view, _especially_ great for when she’s working late like she is tonight.

The phone rings when she’s in the middle of shoving half of a fruit roll-up in her mouth and it startles her so much that she almost falls off the chair as she lunges for her iPhone.

“Lo, ‘ow can ‘elp you?” she asks as professionally as she can from around a mouth of sticky gum.

“Try again.”

Jess swallows and puts on her best perky voice.

“Drew and Danvers, at your service.”

“That’s better.”

“What’s up?”

She can tell Carol isn’t flying — not that Carol has perfected any kind of technology like Tony, where a HUD helmet would allow her to communicate while in the air. But Jess can hear the faint wail of sirens and slightly labored breathing that indicates she’s definitely on solid ground, most likely walking somewhere close to the vicinity of midtown.

“Got an assignment for you, if you’re not busy.”

“Why would I be busy?” Jess takes her feet off the table and glances around. Chewie’s been in his cage for the past two hours sleeping soundly, and Jess isn’t overly concerned he’s going to wake up anytime soon. That cat could sleep through anything.

“I don’t know,” Carol responds. “Paperwork? Cold calling? Getting this business off the ground?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, the world ended. Kind of.” Jess runs a hand through her hair. “Look, you should be glad there’s even any crime left for you — I mean us.”

Carol sighs loudly. “Meet me in the park in an hour. Our usual bench.”

“What do you have?” Jess asks suspiciously. Carol’s tone is too serious to imply something random, but not serious enough that Jess knows she needs to be worried.

“A job,” Carol says simply, before the line goes dead.

***

Half an hour later, Jess is sitting on a bench on the 5th Avenue side of Central Park. Wrapped in a worn black hoodie, she’s stirring sugar into her coffee when something red and gold plants itself in front of her with such force that she spills half of her scalding hot latte onto her pants.

“You could’ve called,” Jess grouses as she digs around in her bag for a napkin.

Carol grins. “You realize you’re pretty much the only person I can make that entrance with, right?”

“Show-off.”

Carol takes a seat next to her. “Anyway, here. Have this.”

Jess takes the folder from Carol’s outstretched hand, not bothering to ask where in her suit she might have been hiding a super thick folder full of paper, and puts what’s left of her drink on the ground in front of her. “What’s this?”

“This.” Carol pauses, almost dramatically. “Is your job.”

“A hostage situation,” Jess says flatly, sifting through the papers. “You called me out of my fruit rollup induced coma for a hostage situation?”

“Read it,” Carol instructs. “Remember last year when that giant dinosaur showed up and things kind of went haywire?”

“And I had to save your ass, yeah, I remember,” Jess mutters absently, still reading.

Carol clears her throat. “Right, well. _These_ guys were involved in that, once upon a time. Petty crimes and everything.”

“Uh huh.” Jess looks up again. “So why do we care?”

“Well,” Carol continues with a smile, “we care because it turns out that they’re wanted for breaking and entering — among other things — and because of recent events, they currently have someone we care about in custody. It’s a two for one: we rescue your friend and we catch some criminals in the process.”

“ _My_ friend?” Jess asks as Carol gestures to the papers. Jess looks down again and inwardly groans.

“Oh, you have _got_ to be fucking kidding me.”

***

Somehow, she’s not surprised that her first mission as an actual crime fighter in this new venture of Carol’s has her rescuing her ex-boyfriend, mostly because Clint was...Clint. And whether he did things out of the good of his heart or because of plain and stupid decision making, Jess spent a lot of time worrying about him.

If you were to ask Jessica Drew about Clint Barton three years ago, she would’ve said the following things:

“Clint Barton? He’s _great_. He’s the best marksman in the entire world. Sure, he’s got a warped sense of humor but his heart’s in the right place, and he never misses. Yeah, I know. That was meant to sound exactly the way you thought it sounded.”

If you were to ask Jessica Drew about Clint Barton today, she would say the following things:

“I hope Natasha is enjoying herself.”

Really, Jess has nothing against Clint. Not anymore. There had been perks to their relationship (he _was_ good in bed, and Jess will carry that cliche line of “he never misses” into eternity) just as there had been downsides (the self-loathing got old after many months.) But Jess knows that Clint’s far from a terrible person, and as much as she would never miss an opportunity to make fun of him, she would also never truly put him down. She still cared about him too much.

And, okay. Maybe part of her was just a _tiny_ bit jealous that whatever Natasha now has with Clint, she never had a chance at having while they were together. As a couple they had been close, minus the normal relationship bumps. But the first time Jess saw Natasha and Clint together, at one of Tony’s hilariously overwrought “end of the world” parties three years ago (when he was convinced the world would _actually_ go to shit), she’d immediately felt a gnawing stab of jealousy in her gut. Because she could tell even from the way they were standing that they shared a bond stronger than anything Jess could have hoped for.

“We better not be taking the subway,” Jess grumbles as Carol speed walks ahead of her. She hurries to catch up with her friend.

“What kind of person do you think I am?” Carol looks slightly insulted. “We’re taking a cab.”

“In _that_?” Jess looks her friend up and down and Carol shrugs.

“What, you’ve never seen a costumed superhero before?”

“Yeah, I have. So has everyone else. But you’re usually flying.”

Carol stops in her tracks and turns around, waving one gloved hand around. “The world ended, Jess. Kind of. But I think it’s time to forget about what’s going to happen if people don’t see me flying all the time.”

Jess makes a face. “I’m not even bothering with my own suit, then,” she says with a heavy sigh. “Let’s just get the job over with, okay?”

Carol grins and puts her palms against Jess’ face.

“Love you too.”

***

Truth be told, Clint’s gotten himself into a rather fantastic predicament.

Jess isn’t exactly sure how or why — those are the questions she intends to ask when he’s not drugged and can talk more coherently — but at least the fact that he’s out of commission gives her an opportunity to take control of the situation without having to worry about him doing something _else_ , like upstaging her in a fight. She’s known Clint long enough to understand that most things that would keep other people down don’t keep _him_ down; she’s seen him best a mark while harboring a concussion, a gash to the stomach, and partial blindness from a chemical attack (though not all at once.) But whatever he’s been drugged with this time seems to have had a pretty drastic effect. So much so that Jess has to make sure he’s actually stable and safe before she abandons him in favor of the bad guys who seem intent on finishing the job.

There’s no reason that Carol should have known about the backwater alley and hidden doorway that led to the room where Clint was being held. But Jess has long since learned not to question Carol’s intuition when it comes to crime solving, so she stays silent while Carol directs the cab driver into one of the more decrepit parts of Brooklyn. She continues to stay silent when Carol starts telling her about some of the guys they might encounter, and how they’re not exactly going to be the easiest people to deal with.

“That’s pretty much every bad guy and villain we’ve ever met,” Jess points out as she follows Carol up the block.

“So?” Carol asks as she approaches a door, pausing before kicking it down with as much force as she can manage.

The first guy approaches with a yell and the second comes at them with a gun. Jess barely has enough time to take them in before she’s ducking, deflecting the blows with a few kicks and well-timed punches. Carol is already leagues ahead of her, flying somewhere above and shooting sparks from her fingers, and Jess only has a moment of fleeting disappointment that she’s relegated to spider webs and hyper strength.

“This is the worst,” she mutters as she detains a rather unassuming looking thug. She punches a man in the face, kicks him in the groin, and then realizes Carol has taken on most of the other attackers. She turns her attention back to Clint, who she’s left in one of the corners of the large warehouse room. Jess reaches down to check his pulse before pulling him up by the waist, slinging one of his arms around her neck.

“Come on, Barton,” she mutters as she starts to move. She has little faith that he’ll actually be of any help, but he does manage to shuffle his feet enough so that she’s not completely pulling his weight. Jess ducks through the doorway that Carol has previously broken down and once she’s far enough away, she stumbles onto the ground, letting him fall off of her.

Clint rolls over, otherwise unmoving, but Jess isn’t entirely worried. Still, she lets herself rest for a moment, keeping an eye on his still form while training her ear in the direction of the fight where Carol is still finishing the job.

“Got ‘em,” Carol says triumphantly when she finally emerges, dragging two guys by the arm. She shoves them in front of Jess, her hands firmly secured around their wrists. “Take ‘em down to the police department and we can bust their secret dealership in the process.” She pauses to glance down at Clint. “Is he okay?”

“He will be,” Jess says, pulling herself to her feet. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Carol nods. “I’ll take care of these guys, then. Are you good for getting him home if I call a cab?”

“What, you think I can’t take care of my ex-boyfriend?”

Carol grins. “Just checking.”

Jess grabs Clint again, helping him up, and follows after Carol slowly. It’s only when Carol is helping Jess shove Clint’s prone body into the car that Jess realizes he’s singing an absolutely terrible and off-key version of _Bohemian Rhapsody_ under his breath.

“Is he always this clingy and strange?” Carol asks as she watches Jess maneuver his body so that he can fit more comfortably into the seat, while Clint’s arms try to pull Jess in with him. “Or is this just his brain on drugs?”

“I don’t even want to answer that,” Jess says as she closes the door, sharing another quick glance with Carol before getting in the front seat.

***

Clint ends up regaining consciousness long before Jess reaches his apartment, though she still has to help him move. When she reaches the front door, she finds herself thankful that she remembers where he keeps his spare key and pushes him inside, steering him towards the bedroom.

“Gross.” Clint mutters as he hits the pillow, rolling over onto his side, and Jess assumes he’s probably talking about whatever taste has been left in his mouth from the concoction he was given. He opens one eye slowly. “What happened?”

Jess hesitates, before deciding it’s stupid to lie. She hands him a pair of spare hearing aids she’s unearthed from his desk drawer. “You were drugged.”

“Ugh. I thought it was Wanda,” he mutters after he fits the aids to his ears.

Jess sighs, sitting down on the bed. “Really, Clint. I don’t understand how you go from circus boy to Avenger to hero to...this.” She gestures at the overflowing trash can in the corner, and Clint breaks into a small grin.

“Is that a compliment?”

“Most _definitely_ not.” Jess swats his hand away. “There’s a reason I broke up with _you_ , remember?”

“Because you love me.”

Jess makes a face and checks her watch. Carol had called from the car so she knows Natasha should be home soon and then _she_ could deal with her “he’s totally not my boyfriend, we just fuck a lot” partner.

“I’m getting you water,” Jess announces, choosing to ignore his words as she leaves the room. When she comes back, Clint’s lying still with his eyes closed. She puts the cup down right as his eyes open and he starts to grin.

“Thanks for saving me.”

“Oh god,” Jess says. “Don’t thank me, okay? Right place, right time.”

“You still saved me,” Clint says before drifting off again. Jess sighs as she walks out of the room.

“He’s all yours,” she says tiredly as she meets Natasha’s face; she’s not exactly sure when in the past five seconds Natasha had walked in but then again, arrivals like these were pretty much what Jess was used to and she’s learned not to question it.

Natasha puts her lips in a straight line. “Did he get himself drugged again?”

“Yes,” Jess answers as they meet in the center of the living room.

Natasha frowns. “Details?”

“Not a lot. We can’t tell what he was given. Might take a few hours to wear off, but he’ll recover.”

“Other injuries?”

Jess shakes his head against Natasha’s orderly tone. “Probably a few bruises and cuts. Otherwise, nothing that I could see outright. But I’d keep him in bed just in case.”

Natasha nods. “Thanks,” she says, before disappearing into the bedroom. Jess waits until she closes the door and then turns around, surveying the apartment.

There’s nothing else for her to do here, and while she doesn’t miss taking care of Clint in times like this, part of her _does_ miss the intimacy of their relationship. Putting the thought out of her mind, she opens the front door, only to come face to face with a teenage boy who is wearing a look of awe. She fights an inward cringe because she has a feeling she knows what’s coming next.

“Oh my god,” the boy says, his eyes going wide as he continues to stare. “You’re _Spider-Woman_!”

Jess closes the door in his face and groans, placing her forehead against the frame.

It’s been a long day.

**II. Clint Barton**

<i>Okay, this looks bad.</i>

That’s the last coherent thought in Clint’s mind as a foot connects with his head and a fist to his stomach knocks the wind out of him. From then on, there’s a lot of mumbled words that he can’t understand, and all he knows is that something has to be wrong because he can’t really move and he definitely is _not_ passed out in his bed or on his couch or at Kate’s apartment.

There’s the feeling of a needle entering his arm, and Clint knows the only thing worse than knowing he’s in deep shit is knowing that he’s going to be in even deeper shit when Natasha finds out. She takes most of his situations lightly, but when they involve him actually getting hurt with more than a sprain or a concussion, it’s never a fun conversation.

The thing is, for once, it really _hadn’t_ been his fault. He had gone out solely on the basis of checking out a complaint from one of his neighbors, who had recently been looted, and in the process he’d ran into some of the thugs. And while Clint had been all set to do some sweet talking and go on his merry way (because as much as he was looking to avenge he really _wasn’t_ looking for a fight), the thugs had other ideas.

The next thing Clint knew, he was the recipient of a sharp prick, a lot of pain, and a hell of a pounding headache.

“Clint?”

He opens his eyes to find Natasha’s standing in front of him. She crouches down, her eyes shrouded in worry, and he groans. His ears are ringing, even with his aids, and everything looks fuzzy.

“I had a dream my ex-girlfriend saved me.”

Natasha’s lips form a hint of a smirk. “She did.”

“Aw, fuck,” he mutters, struggling to push himself up on his elbows. In half a second, Natasha’s standing up, pushing him back down.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she says firmly. “Whatever drugs you had in your system are still there, which means you need to stay here for the next twenty-four hours so I can make sure there are no serious side effects.”

“What, you worried I’m going to like, spout wings or something?” he asks tiredly.

Natasha smiles as she walks to the other side of the bed, stretching out beside him. “You need to stop doing this to yourself,” she says, trailing her fingers over his arm.

Clint flinches indignantly. “I didn’t _do_ anything!”

“Exactly,” Natasha replies, curling into him. “How am I supposed to deal with the fact that the world ended when I have to worry that my best friend is going to kill himself doing something stupid?” She pokes his leg with her toe. “Besides, you’re my partner. I don’t really want to put out another call on AvengeWithMe.com.”

“Wait.” Clint turns his head, raising an eyebrow. “Am I still drugged, or is that really a thing?”

“No,” Natasha says, rolling her eyes. “Then again, I’ve never actually looked.”

“Mmm.”

Natasha is running her fingers over his stomach now, her fingers sending sparks through his nerve endings. There’s something about Natasha touching him that’s different than Jess, and even different than Bobbi. Both of them had always felt good, but also slightly awkward. And Natasha never felt awkward. She always felt like fit, no matter how she was touching him or what she was saying to him.

“Hey, am I allowed to not do anything?” he asks after a long silence.

Natasha rolls her head up. “Define _anything_.”

“You know,” he repeats, gesturing towards his pants. “Anything.” He knows he’s never been good at asking for what he wants, and being in the field was one thing because he tended to be on adrenaline and not think about it. But his childhood had scarred him badly enough that it was hard to get over his anxiety about asking for anything that could get him shot down.

“Do you really think you can even get it up right now?” Natasha asks doubtfully, and, _case in point_ , Clint thinks. “Carol said you had a decent combination of drugs in you.”

“Carol — _Danvers_ was here too?” Clint asks, momentarily distracted from his thoughts. “Fuck, I really did get the full treatment.”

“Apparently. Also, according to Jess, you started singing Queen while you were in the cab. And not in the good karaoke way.”

“Fuck,” Clint mutters.

Natasha grins. “Don’t worry,” she says before kissing him. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t embarrass yourself _too_ much before I arrived. And if they start any rumors behind your back, I’ll throw knives at the back of their heads.”

“You wouldn’t,” says Clint, because she would. Natasha hums to herself.

“Maybe not _knives_.”

“Ugh. I love you,” Clint mutters, his eyes feeling heavy. As much as he really wants to make out with Natasha right now, he’s starting to think maybe her assessment about his current situation was right. As usual.

“I know,” Natasha replies, and it takes him a full moment after that to realize she’s reached under the covers and is currently giving him a hand job.

***

Two days later, Clint is feeling better enough to go to the range. Natasha drives him (because Clint knows that watching him shoot is one of her favorite past times, even if she won’t admit it) and Kate’s already waiting for him when he walks inside.

“I booked out the day for us,” she calls as he enters the facility. “I hope you’re ready to do some damage.”

“Girlie-girl.” Clint shakes out his recurve bow. “Let me put it this way: the world ended, and I barely shot any aliens.”

“I know.” Kate’s face falls. “Me neither. I was too busy trying to tie up those Russians.” She hands him some arrows. “Best of ten?”

Natasha crawls up onto the ledge normally reserved for people’s elbows as Clint and Kate take their stances in front of the targets, unleashing their arrows one after another. At the end of a few hours, Kate gets a total of one hundred and ten arrows on the bullseye and Clint gets one hundred and eleven, but only because Natasha has the final say since Kate’s arrow comes dangerously close to the yellow line.

“That’s relationship bias,” Kate complains as they pack up their bows. Natasha shakes her head.

“Contrary to popular belief, that’s _eyesight_. Your arrowhead was a hair on the line while Clint’s was perfectly within the black, so he gets the point.”

Clint grins triumphantly while Kate grumbles, continuing to mutter under her breath as she follows Natasha and Clint out to the parking lot.

“You gonna keep pouting, Katie-Kate? Be a sore loser?”

“Oh, shut up,” Kate snaps, whipping her dark ponytail around. “ _You_ were _drugged_.”

Clint groans, sagging against the door. “Please tell me —”

“And, according to Jess, you sang an _incredibly_ poor rendition of _Bohemian Rhapsody_. Surprisingly though, you got the entire middle verse word for word.”

Clint watches a smirk play across Kate’s face and wonders briefly if Natasha’s offer of knife throwing still stands. He’s pretty sure that she’d been joking, though part of him hoped she hadn’t been, because Natasha was Natasha and she could definitely throw a knife at someone and strategically not hit them the same way that he could shoot an arrow at just the right angle.

The drive back to Clint’s apartment is mostly filled with silence, though that’s only because Clint can’t think of any reasonable conversation that won’t land him snide remarks from either of the people he’s with.

“About damn time,” Jess says when they enter. Clint slouches against the doorway, trying to comprehend why she’s back for no apparent reason.

“Did I give you a key?”

“Nope,” Jess says, shaking her head. “But you also didn’t change your lock since I moved out.”

“Aw, come on.” He pauses, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “What now?”

“Business,” Jess says, glancing up. “Hi Kate. Nat.”

“Jess.” Natasha moves in front of Clint. “ _What_ business?”

“Those thugs we picked up, the ones that drugged you —”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint interrupts under his breath. “We know about the drugging.”

“Oh, stop,” Jess interrupts, rolling her eyes dismissively. “I didn’t tape that little performance...word just travels fast. _Anyway_ , we did a little digging and found out that those guys are a little more than thugs. They’re actually AIM.”

Clint’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait — AIM? Those fucking goober shitheads —”

“What Clint means to say,” Natasha breaks in calmly, hair falling over her shoulders, “is that we all assumed AIM died out with Hydra.”

“Well, you’d be wrong,” says Jess. “Because they’re definitely running the background on this. Like, bigtime. And if my well-placed sources are correct, they’re planning to deliver some package with those same drugs that they gave you, Clint. Except this time they plan to distribute it to a dealer and make a whole big thing out of it.”

“So what does this mean for us?” Kate asks, finally speaking up.

“Well, we gotta make sure they don’t get the drugs out there.” Jess shrugs. “Or rather, _you_ gotta make sure they don’t get the drugs out there. Isn’t that why we’re Avengers?”

“Uh.” Clint gestures towards himself. “You _are_ aware that we’re basically vigilantes now, right?”

“Psh.” Natasha makes a noise in her throat, and Clint finds himself impressed she’s able to sound so rude without even opening her mouth. “I was a vigilante for years before I met you. Not so hard.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I just did.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Jess interjects. “You two are worse than Mary and Rhoda. Look, all we need to do is find out where the package is going and intercept it so it doesn’t get out there. Clint, are you feeling better enough to get in the field if Kate and Natasha are your back-up?”

“Yeah,” Clint says with a nod. “Uh, I think. Wait, why do I have to have both of _them_ as back-up?”

“Rude,” Natasha mutters, while Jessica puts her face in her hands.

“I give up.”

***

It’s not really so bad, Clint realizes, standing on a roof with Natasha at his six and Kate next to him. He at least feels confident, because he definitely won’t admit that he’s still feeling the after-effects of whatever drugs are working their way out of his system.

“What are you thinking of?” Kate asks, breaking the silence that has been comfortably floating between all of them.

Clint squints into the darkness. “Pizza.”

Natasha snorts unceremoniously behind him. “You’re not serious.”

“Am I?” Clint smirks at Kate. “What can I say, avenging makes me hungry.”

“No wonder every safe house fridge was always empty whenever I ended up somewhere alone,” Natasha responds. “Also, I’m beginning to wonder if these guys are ever going to show up. We’ve been here for hours.”

“Maybe Jess had the wrong intel,” Kate offers. “She’s been wrong before.”

“Nah.” Clint shakes his head. “She’s been wrong before, but she’s never been off the mark when it comes to a mission. Her instincts are pretty damn good.”

As soon he finishes saying the words, Kate whistles softly under her breath. Clint’s head whips around; he raises his bow at the same time Kate raises his and even though he can’t see Natasha, he knows she’s fallen into position as well.

“Oh, come on,” Clint mutters as four masked faces come into view a few feet below them. “Only slightly outnumbered.”

“Personally, I was hoping for a hot one,” Kate muses, leaning over to assess the angles and movements of the AIM agents. “But I can’t see with those masks so it’s a crapshoot. You wanna go on three?”

Clint nods and holds up an arm to signal Natasha. “Yep. One...two…”

On three, Clint and Kate unleash their arrows, while Natasha runs forward and leaps off the roof, landing on the ground — and directly on top of one of the AIM agents. She gets him down and then wraps her legs around his neck, and Clint watches from above in immense respect as she twists and brings him easily to the pavement.

He uses his grappling hook arrow to propel himself off the roof and towards the other AIM agents, landing in their path while Kate continues to shoot from her vantage point. Clint shoots one of the guys in the arm and then turns with a kick to take the other one down, while Natasha makes quick work of the fourth agent. All at once, the grunts and yells that have permeated the small battle cease.

Clint starts searching for the package that they’re supposed to recover, turning over bodies and patting them down. As he reaches down to grab the assailant’s shoulder so he can turn him over, his target suddenly flinches and jerks beneath him. Caught off guard, he stumbles as the agent struggles to stand up amidst his injuries. The still-woozy feelings from his drugging incident hit him unexpectedly and as his attacker advances, Clint realizes he’s moving too slowly to make an attack. Just as he’s about to yell out to Natasha in a last-ditch effort, an arrow sails down from the sky, striking the agent directly in the back. He screams and pitches forward, his face landing directly in the middle of Clint’s askewed legs.

Clint sits up slowly, struggling to get his bearings as Natasha walks up holding a small black bag in her hands. He turns his head to see Kate rappelling down from the roof, her jet black hair whipping behind her as she makes a pretty fantastic superhero landing coupled with a smug _yeah, I just saved your ass and I am totally the better Hawkeye so don’t you forget it_ smile _._

“So, yeah,” Clint says as he stands, surveying the area. He shoulders his bow, and gives Natasha an approving nod. “About that pizza...”

**III. NATASHA ROMANOFF**

Two days after their attack on the AIM agents Jess has tipped them off about, Natasha is sitting in Clint’s Brooklyn apartment drinking a large glass of red wine and flipping through channels on the small television. When Clint walks in after returning from the gym, he raises an eyebrow.

“The Black Widow is taking a day off?”

“I spent a day rescuing you from thugs with your ex-girlfriend and then I had to randomly ambush a bunch of AIM agents. So yeah, I’m taking a day off,” Natasha responds, gulping down another swallow of wine. “Also, I’ve missed about four episodes of _House Hunters_ so I need to catch up.”

“Wow, I pity you,” Clint replies sarcastically, taking off his shirt and chucking it at the wall. He walks to the fridge and takes out a can of beer, opening it with a loud snap. Natasha sighs as he walks towards her, collapsing on the other side of the lumpy couch, stretching his sweat-soaked non-beer-holding arm forward.

“Gross.”

“More gross than how sweaty I am after we have sex? I thought you liked a boyfriend who was active.”

Natasha doesn’t answer, but a smile plays across her lips that she can’t stop. “I thought we agreed that you’re not my boyfriend.”

Clint snorts and takes another sip of beer. “Yeah, I know. I’m not your boyfriend. We just fuck a lot.”

“Well, we do. I don’t see why we need a label.” Natasha pauses. “Besides, who the hell cares about what we call ourselves as long as we’re good with it?”

“Uh huh.” Clint’s tone is noncommittal, but Natasha can tell there’s something that he’s not saying. She waits for him to continue the conversation and when he doesn’t, she finally bites.

“Seriously,” she presses, turning off the television and scooting around so that she’s looking at him directly instead of sideways. “Why do we need a label?”

“I didn’t say that we did,” Clint answers, his voice calm in a way that’s almost infuriating, as if he knows she’s annoyed and he’s enjoying riling her up. “I just think — if we want to call it what it is, then maybe we should own up to it. If we’re not a couple, then, fine. I’ll rest my case.”

“But you want to hear me say it,” Natasha hypothesizes, crossing her arms. “Otherwise you wouldn’t press me like this.”

“Okay, yeah,” Clint agrees. He takes another sip of beer. “Fine. I want to hear you say it. But like I said, I’m good with whatever you decide. So why is it a big deal to you that I’m asking?”

Natasha sets her lips in a thin line and then gets up, walking to the cupboard. She takes out a half-filled bottle of whiskey and fills a shot glass that Clint had recently brought back from a mission (a completely gaudy tourist buy that was definitely not worth the ten dollar gift shop price tag), downing it before slamming her glass down on the table.

“I didn’t ask you to get pissed about it,” Clint calls from across the room. “It was just a question.”

“I’m not pissed about it,” Natasha responds shortly, even though she knows it’s a lie.

Clint frowns. “Okay. Are you still pissed because Tony found the guns you hid around the Tower?”

Natasha doesn’t answer and instead pours and downs another shot. “ _You’re_ one to talk.”

“What?” Clint looks genuinely confused and Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Oh come on. Everyone hides _something_.”

“I don’t,” Clint argues, before backtracking off what Natasha knows is a well-placed glare. “Well, okay. I hid a piece of gum once. But I’d never hide weapons.”

“That’s because you don’t _need_ weapons,” Natasha answers, running a hand through her hair. “You could make a knife a weapon.”

Clint smiles and gets up from the chair, sauntering over to her. “Learn from the best, Tasha.” He grabs the whiskey bottle and pours a shot of his own. “So, back to the question at hand...if you’re not mad about it, like you say you’re not. Am I your boyfriend?”

Now Natasha knows for damn _sure_ he’s enjoying it, and she suddenly hates him as much as she wants to jump him. She grabs the bottle and doesn’t even bother with filling her glass before she takes a long drink.

“Ask me in a week. And leave me alone.”

***

At one point, Natasha thinks this would be a headline in some gossip paper: _Hawkeye’s Ex-Girlfriends Spotted In Central Park, Having Brunch! Enemies Unite!_

In reality, though, there’s nothing strange about Natasha and Jess grabbing bagels at a small coffee shop near the Brooklyn Bridge and sitting by the water sipping large coffees.

“He asked you, didn’t he?”

Natasha is startled that Jess knows what she wants to talk about before she even opens her mouth but as she meets her friend’s eyes, she knows she shouldn’t be. There were really only a handful of reasons Natasha and Jess talked as girlfriends as opposed to talking because they had a mission or because they were doing superhero stuff, and a majority of those reasons involved Clinton Francis Barton.

Jess smiles when Natasha doesn’t answer. “He asked me, too. About two months after we started dating. Granted, we’d been sleeping together before we were officially dating and stuff. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Natasha says with a nod. “I do.” She pauses to drink her coffee. “So, what did you say?”

“There wasn’t much to say,” Jess answers with a shrug, putting her sunglasses on. “He wanted to know if I was his girlfriend or just a fuckbuddy. I didn’t mind being called his girlfriend so it was an easy answer. But that’s me.” She eyes Natasha through dark shades. “I’m guessing that’s not Natasha Romanoff.”

Natasha snorts out a laugh as she turns her gaze to the water slowly moving under the bridge. “No, that’s not Natasha Romanoff.” She sighs, leaning back against the bench. “I don’t really put labels on things. It doesn’t mean I don’t like someone or that I don’t want to sleep with them. I just... I prefer not to make commitments.”

“But you made a commitment to superhero shit,” Jessica points out. “I mean, for the most part.”

“That’s different,” Natasha scoffs, though she knows it’s really not. Committing to doing good and taking down criminals and being in the public eye was ten times harder than committing to a relationship that she’d already technically been in for years, so why the hell did she feel so weird about it?

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jess responds nonchalantly. “It is.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, about to feel a little confused at her friend’s easy agreement, before she realizes Jess is clearly being sarcastic.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Nah.” Jess bites down on her plastic straw with a grin. “I think you’d rather fuck Clint.”

Natasha shakes her head. “I don’t know why I bother.”

“Oh, I think you do,” Jess replies lightly. “But at least you’re not threatening to strangle me right now. What’s Clint doing while you’re out having girl talk, anyway?”

***

What Clint is doing, Natasha finds out, is having burgers and beer with Matt Murdock and Kate at a shitty hole-in-the-wall bar in the East Village.

She’s not entirely surprised that he’s called Matt out for “bro time” — after all, she was having girl time, and they certainly didn’t owe each other anything. She _is_ surprised that he’s managed to get pants on, given when she had left he’d barely been conscious. But she also knows the whole joke of “Clint Barton is a disaster” wasn’t really true. Sure, Clint could be an idiot and he could be a slob. He could oversleep through his alarm and leave wet towels on the floor that you might slip on if you’re not careful. But he was one of the sharpest and most competent agents Natasha had ever met, and his heart was bigger than pretty much all of New York City’s boroughs combined.

It wouldn’t be so bad, she thinks, as she opens the door to the bar and steps inside, if she really did decide to commit.

“Well, look who decided to show face,” Kate calls out from the back of the bar. Natasha glances around; it’s mid-day which means the place is mostly dead save for the three of them and some random stragglers who look like they don’t care about a few day-drinking superheroes.

“For your information, I had a meeting of my own,” Natasha says as she walks towards them. Kate grins and swivels around on her heel, tossing a dart at the wall.

“Yeah, I know. Jess told me.”

“Seriously?” Natasha can’t help the whine that escapes her mouth. “I can’t tell anyone anything anymore.”

“Nah,” Kate replies, throwing another dart with near-perfect aim. “I’m not gonna tell the boys. Don’t worry.” She nods towards the bar, where Matt and Clint are hunched over, seemingly in their own little world. “Did it help, though? Talking to someone?”

Natasha shrugs, suddenly wishing for a drink of her own. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I don’t think talking to anyone is going to help.”

“You could talk to _him_ ,” Kate offers pointedly.

“Kate Bishop giving relationship advice?” Natasha asks just as pointedly. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Look, I’m just saying.” Kate hands Natasha her beer, and Natasha accepts it gratefully. “I’ve known Clint Barton a long time and you know as well as I do that he’s sometimes really daft. But also...sometimes he’s just looking for you to validate him.” She shrugs. “I know for a fact he really doeslove you.”

Natasha swallows past a lump in her throat as Kate says the words. It’s not that she wants to refute them or even is surprised by them, but hearing someone else say them — an outsider, at that — catches her off guard.

“That’s the damn problem, isn’t it?” Natasha takes another sip of Kate’s beer. “Ask me the last time someone loved me — _really_ loved me. Ask me the last time I loved someone back, and it wasn’t for the sole purpose of putting a gun to their head.”

“Yeah, I’m guessing you haven’t had the most normal relationship experiences,” Kate says, crossing her arms. “I mean, I haven’t either. But I know Clint’s the best friend I’ll ever have. I know I care about him and he cares about me in a way that I’ve never experienced before. So I just go with it. I mean, hell...the world pretty much ended. A lot of people lost everything.” She smiles. “I still have him. So do you.”

She has a point, Natasha realizes, looking over where Matt and Clint are still deep in conversation. Not many people had bothered to stay around in her life, even people like Tony who she felt closer with than most of the other Avengers. Clint, though...Clint was constant. He was there to pick up the pieces, to make her laugh, to rescue her when she needed help, to cook her spaghetti when she had a bad day.

She _did_ love him, and she knew that.

“Thanks, Bishop.”

“Welcome.” Kate nods towards Natasha’s hands. “Now if you’re feeling better, can I have my seven dollar beer back?”

Natasha laughs, handing over the glass. She turns and strides towards the bar, coming up behind Clint and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her hair falling over his exposed neck.

“Hey,” Clint says, sounding surprised. “You’re back early.”

“Meeting was short,” she responds, licking his ear lightly. “Hey, Matt.”

“Hi, Nat.” Matt smiles and reaches for his drink. “Heard about those AIM agents.”

“All in a day’s work.” Natasha lets her head fall onto Clint’s shoulders. She feels him stiffen as he turns his head, meeting her eyes.

“Uh, not that I’m not enjoying the PDA we’ve got going on but...you okay? Normally you don’t put our relationship on this much of a big screen.”

“Eh.” Natasha shrugs. “Matt’s blind.”

“I heard that,” Matt mutters. “I _can_ hear, you know.”

Natasha grins as Clint’s head dips forward, kissing her lightly.

“Hey, uh…” he trails off tentatively. “When we talked before, you said give you a week. I know it’s almost been a week, so...do you have an answer? You know, about all this relationship stuff?”

Natasha smiles and kisses him languidly, running her tongue along his jaw and letting herself settle into his scent and his skin.

“Yeah,” she answers. “I’m working on it.”

**IV: MATT MURDOCK**

When his phone pings with a text, Matt’s only a _little_ annoyed.

He’d planned to spend his day off going for a run, maybe trying his hand at some cooking, and hoping that no one called his phone saying that they needed a superhero to save them. Clint Barton sending a message asking if he wanted to grab a beer wasn’t _exactly_ on his list of “do not wants,” but if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t really want to spend time with anyone that wasn’t his own mind.

But he also knew Clint. He’d traded bruises and cuts with the guy, commiserated over failed missions on more than one occasion, and he knew that Clint hardly ever called him to just “hang out” unless it was because he needed something he couldn’t handle on his own. So when Clint suggests meeting at a coffee shop near his home in Bed-Stuy, Matt wisely asks if they want to meet at one near his home in Hells Kitchen instead.

He expects Clint to show up two hours after contacting him bitching about something that he clearly needs a listening ear for, maybe a problem with Kate or some other Avengers problem.

He doesn’t expect that something to be about Natasha Romanoff.

Matt thinks that, in another life, there could have been something — _really_ been something — with Natasha. Superheroes ran in the same circles and in the same way that Clint had dated Jess, Matt had once dated Clint’s current girlfriend (or friend, or whatever he decided to call her at any current moment.)

But Clint and Natasha worked well together in a way that Natasha and Matt never did, and even though Matt had side-eyed the pairing at first, he knew that for all of Natasha’s hard and tough exterior, she just wanted someone who saw her for her. Clint was good at that: seeing people for who they really were, not as who someone made them to be.

It’s part of why he feels for the guy, because he knows he really does have a heart as big as the usual holes in his socks.

“So,” Matt starts when he enters the bar and hears the slurping sound that indicates Clint already drinking, “what am I playing therapist for today?”

Clint laughs. “You have to ask?”

Matt snorts and takes a seat next to him. “You know I can’t see your expression, Barton, so I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here you might not be talking about Romanoff.”

“Yeah, okay.” Clint sighs. “It’s about Nat. Anyway, whaddya want? Bishop already forced my tab open.”

Matt’s only a little surprised that Clint’s offering to pay for his drink, but figures Clint probably assumes he owes it to his friend for coming out. He also hadn’t realized Kate was here, which makes things feel weirder. Clint could absolutely talk to Kate about whatever issues he had with Natasha, even if they were awkward girl-related issues. So why was he dragging Matt out of his comfortable day off when he technically already _had_ a free therapist?

“Hey, so.” Clint clears his throat. “When you were, you know, with Nat...was she committed?”

“Committed in what way?” Matt asks, even though he knows exactly what Clint means. “She could never make dinner on time but she was great at keeping up with target practice.”

“Knock it off, Murdock.”

Matt nods slowly, exhaling as he grabs a beer. “Sorry. If you’re asking whether or not Natasha was committed in a relationship sense...that depends on your definition of commitment. I didn’t need a lot from her to feel assured that we were together. But we didn’t really have the type of connection you guys have.”

“Yeah, you see it, right?” Matt can tell Clint’s smiling as he talks. “I mean, not that you _see_ it but...well, it never used to matter — what we were. What we _are_. We were always our own thing and then all of a sudden the damn world ends, and I don’t think things are really that different. But now she’s sitting naked on my couch in the morning while we’re drinking coffee and it just _feels_ different.”

“A great visual,” Matt deadpans in the space that Clint pauses to take a breath.

“I asked her, the other day,” he continues after taking a sip of beer. “I wasn’t trying to make it difficult, y’know? I just wanted us to just be on the same page. And she got all cold feet-ish and I just...” He trails off. “The last thing I wanna do is mess this up for both of us.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you can mess things up too much,” Matt offers. “You and Natasha are maybe the best pairing I’ve seen since Carol and that dinosaur.”

Clint snorts out a laugh. “Well, we’re definitely aggressive, if you know what I mean.”

“That is also something I did _not_ need to know,” Matt grumbles under his breath. “You said Kate was here. Didn’t you ask her what she thinks? I thought you two were like, joined at the hip.”

“Just because we share the same superhero name does _not_ mean that we’re joined at the hip,” Clint grouses. “I’m like, ten years her junior. _And_ the better Hawkeye.”

“Right,” Matt agrees, knowing he can’t keep the smug smile from appearing on his face. “ _Bohemian Rhapsody_ , yeah?”

“Fuck you,” Clint mutters. “I know you can’t see me glaring but I promise that I’m giving you a death stare. And by the way, I _did_ talk to Kate. She was Kate, which means that she told me I was a loser and I should just let it go and focus on the fact that Natasha is letting me be with her at all.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying it,” Matt answers with a grimace, “but I actually agree with the other Hawkeye for once.”

“Eh, I don’t blame you actually. She’s annoying, but she’s pretty smart.”

Matt’s lips rise into a half-moon. “Come on, Clint. You’re really telling me that you can’t figure out why Natasha likes being with you?”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and Matt can tell Clint is either contemplating the question or figuring out how to respond in a way that doesn’t completely make him sound like he’s invalidating the question. When the silence stretches on for longer than he expects, he keeps talking.

“So, the first time Natasha and I hung out — not as friends but, you know, as a relationship thing — she told me about the guys she killed on a mission she’d just come back from. While she made me a macchiato.”

Clint lets out a laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like Nat. Also, she’s really fucking good at making those fancy Starbucks drinks.”

“It’s an art,” Matt agrees with another laugh. Anyway, I gotta admit, I was a little thrown by that kind of pillow talk. But I knew that she wasn’t the kind of girl who was going to tell me about what she had for breakfast so I just kind of went with it. And somehow, that became our thing. She’d talk to me about mission stuff, work stuff, and we’d drink macchiatos in the morning.”

“I fail to see where you’re going with this,” Clint interjects. Matt shrugs.

“Well, the problem was, that became our whole relationship. I felt like I was always talking her off some ledge of needing to have a cover and we could never just _be_ , even when we weren’t doing superhero things. And I know that’s not what it’s like with you.”

“So what’s your point?”

Matt sighs, long and loud. “My point, Barton, is that maybe what you guys are is something that doesn’t need to be quantified. The person she is with you is someone she’s never been with anyone else — I can vouch for that. And I’d bet she knows that, and for her, that’s enough.”

He hears Natasha approaching before he sees her — he knows he’d be able to pick up on her specific spy gait even if he hadn’t dated her — and stops talking, picking up his own beer. Ignoring the excessive sounds of PDA coming from Clint’s direction, he slides off the barstool when Natasha finally excuses herself to go to the bathroom.

“I think that means I can take my leave now.”

“You didn’t even see anything!” Clint protests as Matt starts to walk away.

Matt smirks, turning around mid-stride out of the bar. “Clint.” He pauses for effect, and raises his eyebrow. “I may be blind, but I’m not dumb.”

***

Matt decides to take the long way home, winding through the avenues of Hells Kitchen until he stops in front of a decrepit building that looks like it’s seen better days. For a brief moment, he wonders if he should pick up his phone, but then the front door opens and a tall figure leans against the frame, narrowing her eyes.

“Why are you out tonight?”

“Can’t a man just take a well-meaning walk?” Matt asks, keeping his voice light. “Or have a few beers with some friends?”

“The only friends we know are the ones who can shoot arrows or light from their hands,” Jessica reminds him, and Matt can tell she’s stepped a little closer by the sound of her voice. “Who had a relationship emergency in the super group?”

“No one,” Matt says instantly, before he feels bad about lying — mostly because he knows she’ll be able to tell. “Barton and Romanoff, if you’re wondering.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jessica shrugs. “What’s the big deal about that? They’re fucking for sure. I don’t know why they don’t just yell it to the world.”

“Some people don’t have the luxury of thinking their relationships are indestructible,” Matt points out, and even though he can’t see it, he knows his words have earned him a well-positioned glare. “Anyway, just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. I know Ultron didn’t exactly let you off the hook.”

“He destroyed my favorite diner,” Jessica grouses. “But thanks to him, my rent’s now free. So I guess something good came out of Stark’s idiocy.”

Matt smiles, scuffing his foot against the ground. “Well, let me know if you need any help with anything.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jessica steps back inside and closes the door in his face. Matt smiles, because he’ll take a rude encounter from Jessica Jones over a mean one anyday. At least if she’s rude, it means that he’s still in her good graces and he hasn’t done something totally terrible to ruin their relationship.

Matt takes his time walking back to his apartment and on the way home, he stops for coffee and orders a macchiato.

It tastes like the past, but he decides that’s okay for now.

**V: JESSICA JONES**

“Someone called for you,” says Malcolm, poking his head into Jessica’s bedroom.

“Ugh.”

Jessica opens her eyes but doesn’t move from her spot under the covers. “I hate you.”

“If you hate me, why did you hire me to be your second in command?”

“You are _not_ my second in command,” Jessica says, finally unearthing herself from underneath a blanket. “You’re my _helper_. You help. You can keep helping by shutting up.”

“Whatever,” Malcolm replies, sounding bored and not the least bit threatened. “The world ended, I don’t care, and you have a phone call.”

Jessica watches him walk away and groans, pushing hair out of her eyes. She sits up and forces herself to crawl out of bed, dragging herself into the next room where her cell phone is lying on the table next to her computer. She picks it up with a sigh.

“What?”

“Jessica Jones?”

“Who is this?”

The voice on the other end of the line sounds amused and also a little annoyed. “Carol Danvers.”

“Oh. Yeah, hi.” Jessica glances out the window, rubbing her forehead. “I know you. The American flag girl, right?”

Carol clears her throat. “We’re one and the same.”

Jessica nods at her open window, still attempting to wake herself up properly. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” Carol starts, “you might know that Jessica Drew and I are doing some work around the city — leaning up some crimes and that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, the new Avengers,” Jessica responds sarcastically.

Carol huffs into the phone. “If you say so. Anyway, I wanted to know if you’d be interested in some work. We could use someone with your skill set.”

Jessica makes a face at the window. “I don’t really play on a team these days. Or any day.”

“I’ve heard the opposite,” Carol replies, and Jessica can tell she’s going to fight her every step of the way on this call. On one hand, she’s honestly too tired to find the energy to fight back. On the other hand, she really doesn’t want to jump into work for no reason, especially with people she doesn’t know that well. Matt and Luke and even Danny...she wouldn’t call them her friends, Luke aside, but she definitely felt comfortable around them. They knew her quirks, her attitude, and best of all, she didn’t have to worry about putting on a front.

“What do you want?”

“We have a job,” Carol says, and it sounds like she’s smiling. “I’ll be honest, it’s technically a one person job, but someone with super strength would be a huge asset.”

Jessica chews on her bottom lip. “Does your work pay?”

“We can,” Carol responds levelly. “I’m not above fair compensation.”

Jessica sighs again and looks out the window, debating the conversation in her head. She closes her eyes.

“So who exactly is this work with?”

***

Despite Matt’s many stories about Natasha Romanoff, Jessica has never actually met his ex-girlfriend.

The Avengers ran in the same circles as the Defenders did, theoretically speaking. They didn’t take the same calls — the Defenders dealt with less global issues than the Avengers did — but superheroes in New York weren’t exactly a dime a dozen. Sometimes they kept tabs on each other, and sometimes they even dated each other.

Jessica had personally never understood what was so amazing about Natasha Romanoff, aside from the sex. Matt had fallen hard and fast but to Jessica, Natasha always seemed like she could care less. She knew enough from what Matt would tell her — she knew about the Red Room, the reformed spy life, her many aliases — and it seemed to her like the last person he would want to get himself romantically tangled with was someone who could make his life even more stressful.

So when Jessica arrives at the location Carol’s given her, her mind already racing with pre-determined biases and judgements about the famous Black Widow — the person who she’s supposedly supposed to work with — she’s only a little affronted when Natasha barely smiles, handing over a gun with all the precision of someone who is doing a job and nothing more.

“Here,” she says curtly, handing off a glock. Jessica raises her eyebrow as she takes it in her hand.

“You think I need a gun?”

Natasha raises her eyebrows back. “Well, it never hurts to be prepared. Especially for those of us who _don’t_ have superpowers.”

Jessica levels her gaze, keeping Natasha’s stare for slightly longer than she thinks is necessary. “Fair,” she decides after a moment, because she really doesn’t feel like starting anything right now. The sooner she could get this over with, the sooner she could go home and the sooner Carol could get her a paycheck.

“Thanks for coming, by the way. I appreciate the assist.”

“The Black Widow needs an assist?” Jessica asks, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

Natasha nods, looking put out. “Unfortunately, yes. My partner is busy with his own op right now and no one else has time to really sit in on this with me. And this isn’t a job I feel comfortable doing alone.”

Jessica nods back, joining Natasha on the narrow part of the fire escape she’s perched herself on. The curve of the roof overlooks the East Village and the sun-drenched buildings look particularly dazzling in the late afternoon light, a mirage of a cityscape that promises glamour and glitz among its dirty streets.

The dossier Carol had sent over in preparation for her “work” with Natasha hadn’t given her much to go off of. It was essentially a recon job, watching for an exchange of stolen goods related to Tony’s Ultron mishap. In other words, it was standard spy stuff, and despite what Natasha has told her, Jessica suspects that the only reason Natasha _really_ needs back-up is to cover her bases.

“So, hey…” Jessica leans forward, scanning the sky and then the ground quickly. Seeing nothing, she decides they can fuck around for a bit. “You dated Murdock, right?”

Natasha looks surprised, but only for a second. “Yeah,” she says with a small shrug. “It didn’t work out.”

“Superhero things?”

Natasha bites down on her lower lip. “I suppose you could say that.”

“But that didn’t stop you from continuing to date superheroes,” Jessica continues, smirking when Natasha meets her eyes. “If you know what I mean.”

Natasha leans forward, letting her arms fall around her knees as she hugs them to her chest. In an instant, Jessica thinks she looks about ten years old and a hundred years old at the same time.

“If you’re talking about Clint Barton, it’s complicated,” Natasha says finally. “But if you’re here to rag on him, you should know he’s not as much of a disaster as he looks.”

“Oh, no,” Jessica says offhandedly. “He is. I heard about _Bohemian Rhapsody_.”

Natasha lets out a laugh and shakes her head. “Yeah, apparently word gets around.” She pauses, playing with her fingers, rubbing the tips of her thumbs over the leather of her tac gloves. “Somehow, he’s everything I never thought I’d want. But he’s also my best friend. And yet —”

“And yet you still wanna fuck his brains out,” Jessica concludes. “Don’t worry, I get it.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “More like I’m not sure if I’m ready to think of him as a boyfriend, but thanks for the assessment.”

“Welcome,” Jessica replies, narrowing her eyes at movement she notices thanks to a shadow falling across the side of the building. “But take it from me. You don’t have to commit if you just enjoy being with someone. Better not to have the commitment anyway. Then you’re not tied down if something happens, you know?”

Natasha opens her mouth but before she can respond, Jessica raises her palm. Her eyes flick to the street below and Natasha seems to understand instantly, drawing her gun as she gets up. Quietly, they make their way down the fire escape, keeping in the shadows as much as they can. Jessica notices Natasha gives her a short nod of approval after they both manage to make it down with little issue.

“Shit,” Natasha mutters when they get to the door that Jessica assumes leads to the hideout where the exchange is taking place, and where they’ve seen the figure on the street enter. She glances up and down, snaking her gloved fingers across the metal. “We can’t get this open without making it known we’re here.”

“And that’s why you have me,” Jessica says with a grin. “They’ll definitely still know that we’re here, but at least you can prepare and it’ll be a lot quieter than bulldozing it down.”

She grabs the door and pulls; it’s a little heavier than she’s used to but she manages to get it open with little issue, her strength allowing her to perform the action almost soundlessly. Natasha gives her a grateful look as they pass through, raising her gun. Jessica raises hers as well, but she finds herself wondering if she should even use it. She was never that great with firearms and much more proficient in hand-to-hand combat, though she doesn’t know if Natasha knows that detail.

There’s light coming from a room on the left of the hallway, and Jessica can hear voices talking loudly. _Three of them_ , she thinks, trying to signal to Natasha without using words. If her instincts are right, judging by how their voices are traveling, one is standing right near the door, one is near the middle of the room, and the other is right next to him.

“Let me go in first,” Jessica hisses as she sidles up next to Natasha, approaching the door.

Natasha looks at her with a raised brow. “Why?”

“Because I have super strength. And if I’m right and this guy is where I think he is, I can take him out easily. You’re smaller and you do all that spy shit — you can sneak past him and get the other two. They’ll be distracted enough that you can get the drop on them.”

Natasha smiles, nodding slowly. “Okay,” she agrees, taking a breath. “You ready?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jessica mutters. “Let’s have some fun. I’ve been bored lately.”

She kicks open the door and finds out immediately that her instincts have been right. There’s a burly man standing directly in her path, his back turned to her, and he rounds right as Jessica grabs him. She quickly throws him to the floor and as she moves to keep fighting, she hears Natasha enter the room behind her.

Truthfully, Jessica’s not used to fighting with anyone. Trish, well — she never wanted to be a superhero with Trish and it just never felt right. The Defenders were different, they didn’t work together all that much and when they did, it was always because they had to deal with some big world-ending-type thing. But Jessica’s used to fighting alone, to being alone, and the closest thing she’s had to someone legitimately watching her back was Trish.

And now, she supposes, watching Natasha skillfully take down the two men on the other side of the room with the help of her thighs, the Black Widow.

“That was…” Jessica gives the thug who has raised his arms to try to attack her one last punch, and he falls back unmoving. “Easy. Almost too easy.”

“Yeah,” Natasha agrees, looking at her own work of two unmoving bodies. She scans the room. “I know. Sometimes it’s like that, though. You think that missions are gonna be hard and then…” She trails off, and Jessica wonders what she’s going to continue with. Before she can ask, Natasha clears her throat. “Anyway, the goods are in that box according to what I overheard. We should get the stuff out and I can get it to SHIELD.”

“SHIELD,” Jessica muses as she walks over to where Natasha’s pointed. “Never did trust them.”

“Me neither,” Natasha admits as she joins her. She bends down and pries the crate open, taking out some wrapped packages that she carefully puts in a bag she’s hidden somewhere in her suit. “I came around, though.”

“Cause of him?”

Natasha finishes gathering items from the box and stands up, looking around once more. “He trusted them, and I trusted him. Sometimes, that’s all you need when no one has ever trusted you before.” Her words are curt and casual, but Jessica can tell she’s more emotional about the response than she wants to admit. “Come on. I think we’re done here. Easy ops should mean you get home early enough to watch some bad reality television.”

***

They tie the three men up in a neat little circle, and Natasha calls SHIELD on their way out the door. After a quick sweep to make sure it’s really been that simple and finding nothing, Natasha walks Jessica to the main intersection of Broadway and leaves her with a simple goodnight.

Jessica watches her leave, knowing she could take the subway or hail a cab. But it’s a nice night, so she decides she wants to walk the rest of the way home since it’s theoretically not that far. She wanders down the street, trying to take in everything she can. Despite the fact that New York had changed so much over the years, even after Ultron, it somehow still felt the same. It was constantly rebuilding and revamping, it was bruised and beaten, but it every new day, it was still around. Just like she was.

When Jessica finally reaches her building, she’s surprised to find someone sitting on her stoop. As she gets closer, she realizes it’s Jessica Drew, who stands up and greets her with a smile. She looks tired, and her dark hair is hidden underneath a blue Mets baseball cap.

“Hey, sorry for stalking you.” She smiles easily. “Nat told me that everything went well and things were pretty easy, so I figured I’d just drop off your pay now and that way you wouldn’t have to wait.”

“Oh.” Jessica smiles back, accepting the envelope. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Jess hums under her breath. “So... _did_ everything go okay?”

“I guess,” Jessica responds, putting the envelope in her jacket pocket. “I mean, it was pretty standard. No one horrifically died.”

“That’s a start,” Jess says, rolling her eyes. “How was working with Natasha?”

“Fine.” Jessica shakes her head, staring up at the sky. “You know, it’s funny. I thought we wouldn’t have anything in common, but she’s not as hard-ass as she seems.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” Jess says with a shrug. “Nat’s all talk. Granted, she can be as closed off as a concrete wall but she’s also got emotions deeper than an ocean. Especially when it comes to certain people.”

“Yeah, Clint Barton,” Jessica says with a small laugh. “She’s definitely —”

“Fucking him? Oh yeah,” Jess interrupts breezily. “But you know, they can’t figure out what they are right now in terms of a couple so it’s a whole big thing. Kinda annoying, actually.”

Jessica nods, thinking about her conversation with Natasha from earlier in the evening. “Yeah. I guess I don’t blame her, though. Committing to a relationship when you’re not someone who’s used to being relationship material isn’t easy. Kinda feels like you’re always gonna fuck up, you know? Easier to think they won’t walk out on you if you don’t commit.”

“As someone who _also_ once dated Clint Barton, I can tell you he’d never walk out on her,” Jess says a little sharply. “He’d never walk out on anyone, even if they treated him like shit. Anyway, I’ve tried telling her that. But you know. Spies are gonna spy.”

“Seems like it,” Jessica agrees. “Anyway, thanks for this. I can get some great takeout now.”

Jess laughs. “No problem. And hey, I know the world is kind of a mess right now. But if you ever get bored and want to do some more crime fighting, we could probably use you. I mean, your super strength is something we don’t see everyday.”

“Yeah,” Jessica muses thoughtfully. She fingers the envelope in her pocket. “Maybe. But —”

“But?”

Jessica smirks. “But, I don’t know if the world can handle two Jessicas.”

Jess grins and gestures to the street, her eyebrow lifting just slightly. “Two _sarcastic_ Jessicas, at that.”

**VI: CAROL DANVERS**

Carol likes to think that out of everyone, she remained the most in control during Tony’s Ultron mess.

Jess had freaked out, but Carol hadn’t really been annoyed about it because that was what Jess did. And anyway, it wasn’t like she was in the wrong to be freaked out. Half of New York had, after all, pretty much imploded. Kate had called her in a panic, mostly worried about people she knew rather than the city at large. And Clint and Natasha were nowhere to be found when everything first went down, which meant that Carol was largely on her own.

Afterwards, it had been a lot of damage control — both to the general public, assuring them that the people they had come to know as “superheroes” and “saviors” would still be protecting them — and to the city itself, which was dealing with a host of new issues thanks to Tony’s mistakes. At the end of it all, Carol had been exhausted and ready to fly back into space for a week of self-care when someone on the television asked why there was no organized way that superheroes were helping them get back on track.

Jess, being Jess, had jumped at the idea of Drew and Danvers. A full-stop crime and detective company with her best friend by her side was Jess’ literal dream, and Carol knew getting her on board would be easy. She figured Jess could help rope in Clint, who could rope in Natasha, who in turn might help rope in Kate. Everyone else, she figured, was a wild card. She certainly wasn’t going to _force_ people to work for her, but at least she’d have a circle of support she could trust.

She never thought that circle of trust would include Clint Barton.

Carol doesn’t really talk to people about her history with Clint Barton, partially because she knows Clint hates focusing on his own past and partially because there’s not that much to say other than they had both known each other well before either of them became any kind of superhero. As young kids alone and on their own, they had bonded when they met and eventually went their separate ways. When they coincidentally came back together, they were much different people: she was a star-spangled Kree and he was a high-ranking SHIELD bowman.

Still, they kept their distances. Carol didn’t work with SHIELD as much as she worked with the Skrulls and in space, and they didn’t travel in each other’s circles as much as people would probably assume for the amount of superheroes that New York had. Then Jess had gotten tangled up with him, and everything became slightly awkward when she realized her best friend and her boyfriend knew each other but had never told her, and Carol had been forced to accept that Clint Barton would probably be in her life for at least a good long while, whether it was work related or relationship related.

After that — after she actually spent more than five minutes with him not as co-workers or world-savers — she realized that she really _did_ like him. In so many ways, he was the same brash, cocky orphan that Carol remembered from so many years ago, a personality trait that she had been initially drawn to when they met. And because they shared a history, Carol found that ultimately she was more comfortable around him than she was around other people.

Two months before Ultron and a few days after Jess and Clint broke up, Carol had done the good “gal pal” support thing and offered to stay with her while she got herself back together. Carol had been lazing around the apartment when Jess’ phone rang, and she’d picked it up knowing her friend probably wouldn’t be back from her grocery run for awhile.

“Hello?”

“Oh...hey! Carol! Hey!”

She could tell Clint was surprised to hear her voice, and patiently waited as he started in on his rant.

“Listen, I know Jess and I are not like...a _thing_ anymore, but I was gonna ask if she wanted to get some coffee. And I had some stuff I left at the apartment I wanted to pick up —”

“Sure, come over,” Carol had interrupted with a shrug, even though she knew Clint couldn’t see her. “Jess is actually out, but I could use the company.”

She almost didn’t expect Clint to take her up on her offer. But half an hour later, Clint had shown up on Jess’ doorstep. (Though Carol suspected that might have had more to do with him wanting his old records back more than anything else.)

“Thanks,” Clint had said gratefully when she let him in. “I appreciate it.”

“You could use the company too, huh?”

Clint had looked a little bashful at Carol’s words, then laughed shortly. “What, am I that obvious?”

Carol grinned. “I’m teasing, Clint. I know you guys are still going to stay friends, but I also know break-ups are hard.”

“Yeah,” Clint said, sitting down on the couch. He had looked around for a long time before his eyes settled back on her. “You know, I thought we had it pretty good.”

“As orphans who navigated the world’s bullshit?” Carol raised her eyebrows. “That means nothing when it comes to relationships. Besides, you’ve probably tried to make it work before and it’s ended badly, right? At least you’re coming out of this with a good friend.”

“That’s an understatement, on all levels,” Clint sighed, making a face. “But it’s not like I made a habit of sleeping around. I mean, I never tried with _you_.”

“You could try now.”

Carol hadn’t been sure where the words had come from, at the time. Maybe it had been a place of seeing if Clint really _was_ that person she could’ve connected with more than just as friends long ago, or maybe she was in retrospect trying to give herself a dare that she wanted to follow through on.

Clint, for his part, had looked shocked, and then a little intrigued.

“I’m —”

Carol had rolled her eyes. “I know. I’m not exclusive, Clint. And you’re single again. Come on, live a little.”

Clint had smiled and Carol had taken it as a sign of approval, leaning forward and meeting his lips. She circled her arm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, and she suddenly realized she actually _liked_ the feel of Clint’s mouth against hers. Something about his coarse, slightly chapped lips and warm breath made her feel secure and sent a tingle through her stomach.

She could tell, however, that the kiss was somewhat half-hearted — almost as if he was doing it because he felt like he _should_ , because Carol had wanted him to and not because _he_ particularly wanted to. Against her better wishes, Carol had pulled away, breaking their moment. When their eyes met again, the look on Clint’s face was reminiscent of a puppy who knew he’d just been caught doing something bad.

“Sorry if I’m…” He stumbled over his words, talking fast. “I mean, I don’t think I’m _bad_ , but —”

“You’re thinking about Natasha,” Carol had cut in without waiting for him to continue. “Aren’t you?”

Clint had looked both chagrined and guilty. “I...yeah.”

“Yeah, you’re thinking about her?” Carol pressed. “Or yeah, you like her?”

Clint threw up his hands in frustration. “Yeah, I’m thinking about Natasha and yeah, I like her. Okay? Shit, I’m sorry, Carol.”

Carol had watched him slump back on the couch with his head in his hands, looking for all the world like he’d been caught keeping the universe’s worst secret. She’d curbed the smile threatening to break over her face.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Uh.” Clint raised his head in confusion. “Let’s see. Because I kissed you while thinking of another woman? I mean, Nat is my partner, we’re practically best friends, and all I can do is think about kissing her! I don’t even think she _likes_ me like that!”

“Oh my god.” It had been Carol’s turn to throw her own hands in the air. “Clint. You know she likes you too, right?”

Clint had given her a wary glare. “Natasha,” he had said, spreading out his hands as if he was making a deal. “My Natasha. My partner, the Red Room’s best asset — you’re saying she actually likes me as a person she’d fuck, and not just a partner.”

“You really need to work on your tact,” Carol responded with a wince. “Look, I don’t know her well. But I do know she talks to Jess often and I know she’s said some things about you. Things that you don’t just say about a partner. That’s all I’m telling you.”

“Huh.” Clint had sat up straighter on the couch and looked a little more interested. “Really?”

“Really,” Carol confirmed. “Maybe instead of kissing someone else and feeling guilty about it, you should try kissing _her_ and telling her how you feel.”

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Clint said sarcastically. “Talking to Nat about feelings is like talking to a brick wall. One that never breaks.”

“I’m sure she’s more open with you than 99% of the people on this planet,” offered Carol. “And I’m just going out on a limb here and saying that if you’re thinking of kissing her while you’re kissing me, maybe that’s the real reason you and Jess couldn’t make it work.”

Clint had bitten his bottom lip, his entire body relaxing in a show of resignation. “Do you know me this well because you grew up with me?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it growing up together,” Carol replied. “But yeah, knowing you as a moody teen who stole shit from gas stations when I wasn’t looking means I probably have some sort of sixth sense about your instincts.”

“Well, in that case, I guess since you’re telling me I should go talk to Natasha about my feelings, I should grab my records and get out of your hair.” Clint had gotten up and grabbed his bag, slinging it around his shoulder. “I probably derailed your day anyway.”

“Nah,” Carol said. “Like I said, I was just hanging around anyway. But it’s not like you’re leaving me in a lurch or anything. I got a hot date with a lieutenant later.”

“Huh.” Clint had stopped halfway to the door, suddenly curious. “Anyone I know?”

“Maybe,” Carol teased. “But if I tell you, I might have to punch the daylights out of you.”

Clint rolled his eyes, a smile snaking over his face. “Yeah, yeah.” He waved as he let himself out, his voice echoing as he stepped into the hallway.

“Keep your secrets, Princess Sparklefists.”

***

A post break-up get together in Jess’ apartment a few months before Ultron was how Carol confirmed that Clint liked Natasha. She confirmed Natasha liked Clint during a girls night at a local dive bar, a gathering that Jess organized to help them get to know each other better now that they were going to be working together more often.

Jess had downed three beers in quick succession, which had led to her running her mouth about relationships and men being terrible. Even though she hadn’t been specifying Clint (because Carol knew better and because Jess would never dare to talk about mutual friends like that, even in drunken gal pal settings), Natasha had immediately bristled and stood up a little straighter while slamming her beer down on the table.

“Not _all_ men are terrible.”

Hearing Natasha Romanoff, the famous Black Widow, say that out loud — when Carol knew she’d killed men for less — had made her laugh, and Natasha had looked at her with slight drunken annoyance.

“What?”

“What?” Carol had countered back. “You’re talking about Clint, right?”

If looks could kill, Carol thought she might have been struck dead at that moment. Natasha had turned her head and downed her beer while Kate and Jess had exchanged knowing glances.

“Nat...you know that if you like Clint, it’s fine.”

“You know I don’t _like_ anyone,” Natasha had replied bluntly. “And Clint is my partner. Not my fuckbuddy.”

“I never thought I’d hear Natasha Romanoff use the word fuckbuddy,” Kate had interjected loudly, before Natasha had kicked her hard under the table.

Later, while paying and gathering their coats, Carol had gently pulled Natasha aside and into a dark corner. After glancing up and down and making sure Natasha didn’t have any knives on her that she might attack with (Carol trusted Natasha but also, Carol could never be too sure), she took a deep breath.

“You know I’ve known Clint since he was a kid, right?”

Natasha had looked up, surprised, and seemingly distracted. “Yeah. He mentioned that a few times.”

“Well, I just want you to know he’s a good guy. I mean, I’m sure you already know that from working with him, but I wanted to back that up.”

“You’re right. I already know that,” Natasha returned bluntly. “So what’s your point? That you’ve fucked him and therefore I should be okay with doing the same?”

Carol hadn’t been able to stop herself from laughing. “Believe me, I’ve never fucked Clint. Though now I’m beginning to wish I had, after hearing what Jess got to experience. But I just know he’s a good person. A good person who really likes you.” She’d paused, giving Natasha space to respond, and continued on in the silence that followed. “And I know you’re worried maybe you’ll mess something up if you go with it, and I get it. I would be the same. But maybe you should at least let him know you like him, too.”

Natasha had smiled, and shrugged her coat on the rest of the way.

"I'll think about it," she'd said as she walked away, and Carol had she must either be drunker than she realized or in a good mood because it was a miracle she'd taken the words as well as she did.

To this day, Carol still doesn’t know where Clint and Natasha were during Ultron’s attack and for some reason, they’re both cagey with a response whenever anyone asks them. Jess maintains they were fucking somewhere off the grid and not even in New York at all. Carol doesn’t admit it but she thinks that if that was the reason, she might be okay with having two of the most prominent Avengers skip out on what was arguably the one of the city’s biggest disasters in recent history.

After all, _everyone_ deserved a little bit of happiness. Even superheroes.

Even people like Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

**VII: DARCY LEWIS**

When the world ends, Darcy Lewis is eating string cheese.

To be exact, she’s eating her fifth string cheese from the package and watching a pretty amazing documentary about house hoarders, feet up on the coffee table and hair messily thrown into a loose ponytail. When a loud crash from outside makes her jump, showers of orange light bleeding through the window of her apartment while the floor shakes beneath her, she falls to the floor in a startled heap.

“Well, crap,” are the first words out of her mouth, because it’s too much to hope that the explosion isn’t Thor making an entrance. The next thing she knows, there’s a fucking robot flying past the side of her window and another one crashing through the glass. She scrambles out of the way just in time to avoid being hit and knocks her elbow into one of the side coffee tables. While she curses up a storm, she realizes the robot that’s made his untimely entrance is now staring at her with glowing, laser red eyes.

Darcy Lewis is not a superhero, but Darcy Lewis isn’t dumb. She knows what red laser eyes mean and she’s also very not ready to die today. Before she can scream, something else flies through the window. Darcy covers her eyes in abject terror and when she realizes she’s still standing and not dead, and that the noise in her apartment has more or less stopped, she peeks out from between her fingers to see an arrow sticking out of the robots head, which has exploded into small shiny pieces.

She then looks up and sees a man standing above her holding a bow. He looks like he’s both very tired and very annoyed.

“Who are you?”

The man sighs and shoulders his bow. “Clint Barton.”

Darcy’s eyes grow wide at his response. “Wait. Shit. Like, _Avengers_ Clint Barton?”

“Yeah,” Clint says, holding out his hand. “Like, that one. Come with me.”

***

Darcy thinks she’s going to pass out when Clint takes her to a building that looks like any other building because when she walks in, she knows exactly where she is and why no one else would unless they had some amazing intel.

“Holy shit,” she says a little too loudly as they walk through the halls. “This is SHIELD? I’m in SHIELD?”

“You’re in SHIELD’s official headquarters, yes, but we haven’t used it as official headquarters for years,” Clint answers. “I’m taking you here so you can shelter in place until this whole mess is over.”

In any other situation, Darcy knows she would probably be more pissed about her apartment getting ruined and being literally plucked out of her everyday life by a superhero. But Clint Barton was an Avenger, and Darcy was in SHIELD, and so she feels like she needs to take advantage of everything as much as she can.

“How long am I staying here?”

“Until we get control of these robots,” Clint answers, not looking over his shoulder as he leads Darcy down a long corridor. “Trust me, you’re not gonna miss much. It’s a mess out there”

Darcy isn’t sure she agrees with that because it seems like New York getting blown up is a hell of a thing to miss, but she also reminds herself that ten minutes ago she was about to be robot food and she’s probably better off not trying to be the next big Avenger.

Besides, if she was being honest with herself, she knows she shouldn’t really do anything insane without Jane knowing. Jane might kill her.

“Here you go,” Clint says, leading her into a small room. Darcy looks around, noticing it’s basically a small living space that she figures at one point may have been used as a break room. “Just...hang out and stay put for awhile, okay?”

“What are _you_ gonna do?”

Clint gestures to the walls. “In case you didn’t see, robots are invading Manhattan. You’re good here, right?”

Darcy takes another look around the room, trying to take everything in. She can’t see a lot of things that will amuse her or distract her but there are a bunch of books piled on top of what looks like an old desk that she figures she can sift through to pass the time.

 _Real SHIELD books_. Darcy feels her blood tingle as her eyes land on them. Maybe there were some secrets in there about Peggy Carter. A girl could dream.

“I guess,” she says. Clint smiles grimly.

“Great.”

Before Darcy can say anything else, Clint’s out the door, closing it swiftly behind him. Darcy sighs to herself and walks over to the desk, picking up one of the thick tomes.

“Real SHIELD books,” Darcy mutters to herself as she begins to read. She perches against the wall, sliding down to the floor, and settles in.

Maybe this day wasn’t turning out so bad after all.

***

Darcy doesn’t really know what happens during Ultron’s attack. One day in the future, she knows she’ll probably spin a big long story to her nieces and nephews and brag about how she was saved by an Avenger. But for now, she’s content to sit and read about old SHIELD cases and boring notes that she can’t quite understand. She bides her time, waiting for Clint to return, her mind filling with questions and stories she can ask about.

So when Clint finally does come back looking a little worse for the wear, when he opens the door and says, “alright, we can get you home now,” Darcy is sad to realize that Clint doesn’t mean it literally.

“Everything is a mess, but it’s all safe,” Clint reports, shoving his bow across his back. “You should have no issue getting back to your house. Unfortunately, I can’t help you much if your apartment has gone the way of most things in the city.”

“You can’t even walk me back?” Darcy asks, a whine to her voice. Clint rolls his eyes.

“Darcy. I’m an Avenger, not a babysitter.”

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Darcy argues with a wave of her hand. “I don’t need my hand held while I cross the street. I mean, aren’t you going that way anyway?”

Clint sighs, looking tired, and Darcy feels like she can’t blame him. It’s not like she ran around shooting aliens in the head for four hours straight. “Come on,” she continues, putting on her best pleading face. “I just want company.”

Clint rubs a gloved hand over his eye and nods slowly. “Fine. I’ll walk you a few blocks to make sure you’re totally safe, okay? But then I really gotta go.”

“Fair enough,” Darcy agrees, holding her hand up for a high five. Clint looks put out but hits it anyway and Darcy grins as they walk out of the room together, back down the long hallway and towards the front door.

She blinks rapidly as she steps out of the building, taking in the aftermath of the destruction as her eyes adjust. There are buildings smoking everywhere, sirens blasting in the distance, and dozens of metallic alien robots littering the streets in front of her. Darcy makes a face as she follows Clint down the street, carefully sidestepping the debris.

“Hope my apartment’s okay,” she mutters as she surveys the damage and crosses the street. As she looks up, she catches Clint staring at his phone and while she can’t see what he’s typed, she manages to see enough to recognize a name.

“Woah,” Darcy says loudly, hurrying to keep up with Clint’s pace. “Black Widow is texting you?”

Clint gives her a hard look, and Darcy gestures to his arm. “Dude, chill. I saw your phone just now. If you didn’t want me to see anything, you should use those spy codes.”

Clint huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Guess that’s fair,” he replies, shoving his phone in his pocket. Darcy smiles, feeling a little buoyed by his light response.

“So are you guys like, together?”

Darcy’s not even sure why the words have come out; she knows that guys and girls being friends or even work friends doesn’t mean they have any romantic relationship. But the words slip out before she can stop them and when Clint doesn’t respond right away, Darcy’s eyes go wide with realization.

“O-M-G.” She covers her mouth with her hand. “Wait, if you’re together, why don’t I ever see you on the papers and stuff? Like Tony and Pepper? They’re like, relationship _goals_.”

“I don’t know,” Clint says, sounding frustrated, and Darcy feels somewhat proud and validated that he doesn’t even bother to dispute her sleuthing. “Because we just...aren’t out there like that.”

“Yeah, but you’re superheroes,” Darcy points out. “I mean, I get that you want private lives, but you can still be out there if you want.”

“Maybe we _don’t_ want to,” Clint responds roughly. “Look, I’m sorry that I sound grouchy, but I don’t really talk about my private life to strangers. Especially after I’ve spent my technical day off killing aliens, okay?”

“Okay,” Darcy agrees. “I get it. But like, you could’ve just said you’re not together and I wouldn’t have even been suspicious so really, this is all your doing. I just felt like I had a right to ask.”

Clint remains silent throughout her tirade, but gives her a sidelong glance as they cross another long avenue.

“You’re a lot to take in,” he decides finally. “What’s your deal?”

“My _deal_?” Darcy raises an eyebrow. “I don’t have a _deal_. If you mean heroes, sure, Jane is my best friend and she’s kinda sorta dating Thor — you know, _your_ friend, the God of Thunder — so I guess you could say I know a thing or two about avenging.”

“Right,” Clint snorts. “Avenging, not relationships.”

“Oh, come on,” Darcy replies, feeling frustrated. “I’m just saying, I feel like you really like her. And you don’t have to be public about it but like, at least acknowledge it. Besides, she’s just Black Widow. She’s not a God like Thor. I mean, that was a lot for Jane to take in and _she_ got her head around it.”

“You just answered your own question,” Clint says, without looking up. “She’s _just_ the Black Widow. Also, I asked you to stop giving me relationship advice.”

“You did,” Darcy acknowledges. “And I will. I swear. But I’m just calling it like I see it.” She pauses and grins. “Besides, I think you two are really hot together.”

“Darcy.”

Clint stops walking and Darcy thinks he’s going to say something else about how she should stop talking about the relationship he apparently refuses to discuss. But he simply points behind him before placing his hands on his hips. “This is where I leave you. You okay to get back?”

“I suppose.” She looks up, flashing a small smile. “Hey, really, thanks for everything today. You know, for shooting that alien...saving me...the walk. All that good stuff. You really are a great Avenger.”

To Clint’s credit, he looks touched if not a little embarrassed. “Thanks,” he replies with a small smile that Darcy can tell is genuine. “That means a lot.”

Darcy waves and turns around, heading down the street. She only turns around again when she’s gotten a significant distance away and can barely make out Clint’s retreating form. She pulls out her phone, which in the day’s excitement she’s almost forgotten she’s shoved in her pocket, and smiles when she sees a message on the screen.

She immediately hits a button.

“Jane? Yeah, I’m totally fine! Oh my god, wait til I tell you about it though. _Aliens_! And SHIELD! And don’t tell Thor but I’m pretty sure Hawkeye has the hots for Black Widow…”

**VIII: NATASHA ROMANOFF**

Natasha never really looked forward to weekends, simply because weekends didn’t exist.

They didn’t work all the time — even at SHIELD, they always had days off or downtime. But Natasha had gotten too used to being “on call” more often than she probably should be and so she never really felt like she could look forward to the weekends the way Clint always did. It was hard for her to view any time off as a break from life or as a way to relax.

But then she started dating Clint. She started fucking Clint. She started spending more time attached to Clint Barton than she ever thought she would, and she started to look forward to weekends because weekends meant that they could be alone and spend time together uninterrupted, just them and no one else.

This particular weekend, Natasha is lying on the couch in a bra and sweatpants, her feet encased in fuzzy blue socks. Clint is sitting next to her, his legs propped up on the coffee table and every so often, when Natasha shifts, she manages to fall a little more into his hold.

“I have a theory,” Clint says out of the blue, his voice echoing and vibrating against her ear, which is pressed into his ribcage.

“Okay,” Natasha answers, not bothering to move her head. “What’s that?”

“My theory is that if the Black Widow sits with her prey long enough, she’ll eventually figure out a way to morph into his body and then she can probably kill him from the inside.”

Natasha scoffs into his shirt. “That,” she says, sitting up and narrowing her eyes, “is a terrible description of an actual spider. Also, I’m offended that you think I couldn’t kill you from the outside.”

“Oh, I know you could,” Clint replies with a wink, and Natasha bites down on her bottom lip because she suddenly wants him right here and now even though they’d just slept together an hour ago.

“You know…” Natasha trails off, trying to distract herself before she gets too turned on. “Carol still doesn’t know where we were during the Ultron battle.”

“And she never will,” Clint responds, meeting Natasha’s eyes with a smirk. “I’ve got an alibi saving Darcy Lewis from aliens. She’ll never know that in between we were shacking up in that old apartment.”

Natasha grins and kisses him on the cheek, letting her tongue skirt across his coarse skin. “Good. Because I’d hate for the last private safehouse I have to be ruined by your nosy friends and ex-girlfriend.”

“They’re _your_ friends too,” Clint points out. “Ex-girlfriend aside.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and starts to get up but Clint grabs her wrist, tugging her gently back towards the couch.

“Hey, wanna go on the roof for a bit?”

 _Can we fuck on the roof?_ Natasha wants to ask, but doesn’t. Instead, she nods, letting him get up with her and lead her to the small window. Together, they climb out and crawl up the fire escape. Pulling herself up on the highest ledge, she waits until Clint’s joined her and then sits next to him, leaning in and feeling comforted against his hold.

“So the world ended,” Clint says when he finally speaks after a long silence. “But it’s not all that bad.”

“Well.” Natasha swallows and tries to hide the laughter that threatens to break free. “You were drugged.”

Clint huffs out a breath. “Yeah, I know. But you saved me.”

“Jess saved you,” Natasha points out, snuggling into his side. “I just nursed you back to health and made sure you didn’t die.”

“Like I said.” Clint dips his head to kiss her scalp and lets his hand drift to her leg. “You saved me.”

Natasha lets her own hand drift, splaying her fingers against his calf. “Did I?”

She feels Clint smile against her head. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Mmmm.” Natasha closes her eyes, letting the cool wind assault her face, basking in the contrast of the warmth she feels thanks to sharing Clint’s body heat. She hears him clear his throat quietly, and waits because she has a feeling she knows what he’s going to say.

“Since it’s been a week...did you ever figure it out? I mean, what I asked before. About us.”

Natasha opens her eyes, staring out at the cityscape. She nods, trying to phrase the words in her head before they leave her mouth so that she doesn’t say the wrong thing.

“It took me awhile,” she starts. “I’m...I don’t commit. And I like what we are, what we’ve been...I like not having a commitment to that.”

“But?” Clint asks quietly, and Natasha notices he’s not fighting her like he normally would if they were truly bantering. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“But it’s different with you. That’s what I’ve realized. I love you, and I like you, and I think whether or not I commit it doesn’t matter. Because as long as I’m with you, I know that can be enough. For both of us.”

She waits for Clint to respond, and when he doesn’t, she sits up so she can see him. For a moment, she’s worried she’s said the wrong thing, that she’s started an entirely new argument about what they are, who they are, who they’re supposed to be. Then Clint smiles and leans over, kissing her softly.

“I think it can be enough, too.”

As she meets his lips, Natasha smiles, and the sky turns blue and gold in front of her. And for the first time, she thinks that she can look towards the future with hope. Hope, and the person beside her who was sometimes a mess, sometimes too much, but altogether someone who was just right.

It was like Clint said:

Yeah, the world had ended. But it wasn’t all that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @isjustprogress for more fic and flails.


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